What You Grow To Be
by silverfingers
Summary: My postOotp version of HBP. A crossover for anyone who's read His Dark Materials. What if every world the knife could cut to was another book? Am I the only one who sees the similarities between specters and Dementors? Building up to the crossover aspect
1. Dream Catching

Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's characters. I wish I did, but unfortunately, that is not the same.

Harry fell asleep, and his head slumped against the mirror. His dreams were blank for a while, but then a new one began. One of a kind he hadn't had in over a month…

Hermione gasped and pointed over his shoulder at the shadowy figures in the glass. A ring of Death Eaters was visible.

"Moody, is that a Foe-Glass?" Moody's eye turned to look.

"No. It's a Se-ed glass. It shows what you're thinking-what's going on in your mind. We use it for meetings of the Order when one of us wants to show a memory exactly as it happened-it's useful, see. I'd guess what we're looking at now now is Potter's dream." Ron turned pale.

"What?"

"Well, he hasn't done his Occlumency! He usually sits on his bed with his eyes closed for, like, 20 minutes before going to sleep. But here he just dozed off-what if he's seeing inside You-Know-Who's head? Again?" All eyes turned in spite of themselves to the mirror, and the circle of Death Eaters. They were standing in a badly lit place of gray stone, with water dripping from the walls. People gasped, turned pale, or tightened their grip on their chairs as they recognized some of the scum surrounding Lord Voldemort.

Voices were coming down the passage. A young woman's and an older one.

"You're saying he used to sneak down here to summon up a snake to attack people who didn't have Wizarding parents?"

"Yes. But we're both Parselmouths-the Riddle gift, I suppose-and it's a basilisk. Anyway, I need to talk to him."

The door flew open and 2 people stepped in. One was a tall witch, fit-looking with gray hair and robes. The other was younger, about 16, and wearing Muggle clothes. The older one had a sharp, cunning face, but as for now she merely looked enraged. All the Death Eaters had turned to look at them, and a few had drawn out their wands. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped into their path. The young girl cocked an eyebrow at her, but the older woman made as if to pass. Bellatrix stepped in front of her again. The woman peered haughtily into her face.

"Lestrange-Bella, isn't it? I remember you. I visited your ma once. You were only two. You won't remember. I remember, though- you were a brat. I gave you the first good hiding of your life that day and if you don't get out of my way I will give you your last." Bellatrix backed down.

Voldemort made a quick, spitting hiss and a shadow seemed to flicker. Then he stepped out into the open. "Rebecca." The older woman turned.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite little brother. Back from the dead."

"Where you should be yourself." came the chilling reply. The woman exploded.

"That was you? Oh, I knew you were evil, Tom, but I never thought you'd stoop to sending in an assassin to do in your own sister." Several Death Eaters gasped. She rounded on them.

"Oh yes," she cooed softly. Her voice seemed to have a hint of concealed poison in it and it looked as if the Dark Lord's sister-if indeed she was- could be dangerous herself. "Twins, not that we like to talk about it. Imagine my surprise when I come back home and find my girl here -" She turned back to what had once been Tom Riddle, her brother, but this time Voldemort was the first to speak, his eyes on the girl.

"You got married?"

"Yes," she said. " To a Muggle" Voldemort seemed to recoil, hissing softly under his breath.

"Anyway, Imagine my shock when I come back and find my girl here up at 2 AM, strangling a basilisk." The girl in question started tugging at her mothers arm. Voldemort noticed this.

"Your half-blood brat has something to tell you." Ignoring the slur on her daughter, the woman turned to the teen. All of the sudden, her eyes widened. The girl yelled and lunged, but it was too late. Voldemort's huge snake, Nagini, had sunk her powerful fangs into Rebecca's leg. Rebecca went down as the girl dived for the snake, tightening her arms around it's massive body. Harry's scar then hurt so badly he woke up, yelling "AARGH!" and clasping his hand to it. Ron followed him quickly then nipped back into the room. There was the sound of water running and a splattering sound. "What's he doing?" Moody asked, a shade paler. "Stuck his head under the tap," said Ron, looking so pale that his freckles stood out. Ginny was rocking back and forth with her fist in her mouth. Seeing Voldemort must have been a shock. The sounds of water stopped, and Harry reentered the room. Everyone was staring at him.

A/N We-e-el? Whaddaya think? Reviews please, and I might just update!


	2. Another what?

Disclaimer: None of JK Rowling's characters are mine. If they were, they would not be called 'JK Rowling's characters'. This disclaimer is unnecessary.

A/N I know it's short...writer's block...other fics...FORGIVE ME

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. The one time he forgot, the one time he'd dozed off, it had to be with everyone watching. What if they refused to believe it wasn't real? Someone in the Order could get hurt…again. Because of him. Everyone Harry knew, apart from the Dursleys, had told him not to blame himself at least once. Hermione and Ron had been planning to sit him down for a serious talk about it, until Lupin had told them in a tired voice to just let him grieve. The tremor Harry heard in Lupin's voice had made him feel ashamed of himself. Not because he was eavesdropping, but because he finally realized he wasn't the only one who had lost someone in the Department of Mysteries. The unluckiest Marauder had turned out to be the only one left alive. Harry turned his thoughts unwillingly to his dream. Voldemort had a sister? That was impossible. Harry found a voice in his head going "He'd have mentioned it," and let out a hoarse laugh. It was true, most of what he knew of Voldemort's past came from the little family-history lesson he had received from Voldemort himself, while he was tied to a headstone. What about Dumbledore, then? Wouldn't he have said something? Maybe he'd promised he wouldn't. If the woman existed, she would have been alive until-he checked his watch-five minutes ago. Harry'd bet that if she was willing to marry a Muggle, she wouldn't be the type of Slytherin who agreed with her brother. She'd have gotten Dumbledore to promise not to tell anyone. This was all, of course, supposing it was true. If it wasn't…then what was Voldemort trying to tell him?

At the Ministry of Magic, one of the most respected Aurors was the tall, slender Gaia. She had shiny black hair that fell just past her ears, and an eye patch (job-related accident.) She was seemingly immune to discomfort and rarely raised her voice. Mostly, she put people in mind of a vampire-really dangerous, pale, and not someone you'd want to mess with, unless you were her friend. Today she was enjoying a morning coffee while chatting with a co-worker in the Atrium. All of the sudden, a pretty young woman ran through the door. She was a little shorter than Gaia, and about two years younger. Her hair was also black, but it fell in luxurious curls to her shoulders. She had Muggle clothes on, but her hat bore the emblem of St. Mungo's. At the sight of her Gaia stiffened, her knuckles going white on the coffee mug. Morpessa ran up to her sister, and spoke in a voice so low Gaia had to strain her batlike hearing to catch the words:

"Gaia. There's another one."


	3. The Third Chapter

Disclaimer: I own no part of Harry Potter. Restrictions apply, results may vary.

A/N Review or walk the plank. It's really your choice. Also, READ THE FOOTNOTES! They help. Really. Sorry about the lame chappie name. (I was out of ideas.)

"Do it."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"You really think? Look, I don't have these freaky powers. I just don't. They'd have shown themselves. You said it yourself. I'm only doing this because you're making me."

Voldemort crossed the room. The girl he was arguing with was fifteen years old, had straight dark-brown hair, olivish skin, and wide anxious eyes. She was also a Muggle. Theresa had no idea what was going on. She didn't know who she was dealing with. She just knew the tall, scary stranger hadn't harmed her. There was no need to judge a book by it's cover, she kept reminding herself, whenever her gut instincts screamed at her to stop taking lessons from the Dark Lord after school. Except she didn't know he was the Dark Lord. People like this might as well have been born with 'kick-me' signs on their backs.

"Try again." She sighed, and shut her eyes.

"Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum."

"Try harder. Clear your mind." (see footnote one)

"Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum." She opened her eyes to protest that nothing was happening. In the dim shop room, Lord Voldemort caught a silvery tinge in her eyes. He shook his head wordlessly, and motioned for her to continue.

"And this time, don't stop until I tell you."

"Expecto patronum. Ex-_pec_-to pa-_tro_-num." She found a rhythm, one that vibrated deep within her soul.

"_Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum." _

The quotation marks disappeared as the chanting began to seem like it had always been there, part of the room, part of the world, part of Theresa.

_Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. _The silvery tinge was spreading now. You could see it shining through her eyelids.

Professor Severus Snape entered the room, and found half of the Order, minus Dumbledore, mesmerized by the Se-ed glass on the wall. Once again, Harry was drooping against it. The kid looked pale, and tired. So tired, in fact, that he had fallen asleep. And was having a dream again, the insolence of it. Outwardly he didn't twitch, but inside his brain let out a scream of recognition as he realized that Potter might be dreaming about what he'd been trying to spy about for months. Practically flaunting that he'd neglected to do his Occlumency, dreaming things that he had no right to see. Of course, it might not be real. Didn't these idiots _know_ that? Probably…hey. Nobody had bothered to wake him up.

He couldn't believe he was thinking this, but maybe it was almost possible that it hadn't been the little twerp's idea. In which case…

Snape darted across the room like a slimy streak of lightning, jerked Potter's head away from the mirror, and shook him until he woke up. Harry blinked, unable to do anything in those first few shocked seconds awake from his nightmare (any voyage into the Dark Lord's thoughts was a nightmare in his book) other than gasp "Thank you, sir," suppress the desire to throw up, then upon realizing he had not only thanked Snape but called him 'sir' without being told, suppress the gag reflex all over again. This time he only narrowly made it to the bathroom in time. Severus's mind would ordinarily have become suspicious of the 'Sir', but he was busy giving the rest of the Order, plus the Weasleys and Granger, a Look. His lip curled.

"Did it occur to any of you to wake him _up_?"

At the Ministry, Kingsley had a lot of down time. Well he would have, if anyone other than people in the Order knew that Sirius was dead (his body was never found after he went through the veil). He, however, was fully expected to keep hunting for him. So, he was just generally trying to direct Ministry people to hunt down Sirius in places where the Order suspected trouble was happening. Kingsley was finally packing up for the night. He heard voices coming from Gaia's cubicle. It was…Gaia? How long had she been here? Kingsley searched his memory…that couldn't be right, she had to have gone home sometime during the last 60 hours…not even _coffee _would allow her to work for that long of a stretch. And her sister, who was supposedly 'helping her investigation'…how long had _she_ been here? Whatever it was, they were both very busy. He'd have to find an excuse to talk to Gaia some other night. (see footnote two) He hoped her sister went home soon. It was hard keeping the interns away from a nurse that young ( was she nineteen?) and pretty. He sighed. At least the Potter kid was at Grimmauld Place these days, out of harm's way. They didn't have to tail him anymore. It had been quite unnerving when he started figuring out who they were, even under the Cloak. Tonks tripped over things, Moody's leg made clunking noises, it was all very embarrassing to have some sixteen year old mutter "Hello, Kingsley. Rough day? You're breathing hard." Tonks, who was working the early-morning shift this week, noticed him staring in Gaia's direction and nudged him. Kingsley shook himself he couldn't as Gaia out. They were in the middle of a war, he was too busy for girls. Besides, he strongly suspected the woman was undead. He'd have to look into that.

1. I know that wizards have to think of something happy to conjure a Patronus. She's not a wizard and therefore obviously not trying to conjure a Patronus, since she can't. Just bear with me.

2. This is not going to become a romance fic, sorry. I just wanted to throw that in there.


	4. Dinner Guest

I'm not even sure why I'm updating this. I am embarrassed about the time between updates of this story. . I don't even know if I'm going to get around to finishing it; if I do the plot will be will be changed. Don't get your hopes up for a regularly updated saga is my message here. I just had this chapter written and was like, 'Here's a crazy thought; how about I POST it?" So yeah. Let me know if you spot any warning signs of Sue-ism.

Also, I am _terribly_ sorry, but ff.n won't let me separate the text the way I want to so that pov switches, etc., don't confuse everybody. So I am forced to resort to obnoxious seperators like the one below:

_**herecomesthechapterherecomesthechapterherecomesthechapter**_

Theresa walked out of the dusty store two hours later, humming absentmindedly to herself. 'Absentmindedly' being the key word, as she had no idea of what had just gone on. The Dark Lord had been amazed at her inability to see how she changed during these little sessions, and then decided it must just be part of the process, plus her filthy Muggle blood impairing her memory. Nonetheless, he was sure to modify her memory a little at the end of each session. No point having Theresa going and telling her social worker that some mysterious guy had her chanting for hours in a back room. The social worker would get suspicious, call the police. That was exactly the kind of thing a…Voldemort found his lip curling…_muggle _would do. Busybodies. Why he'd selected a girl from the orphanage so close to his father's home village, he didn't know. Her orphanage was a far cry from the miserable, heartless place he'd been raised in. Oh yes, Theresa had her own room, a dedicated and friendly social worker, and a nice young couple looking into fostering her. If all went as planned, however, Kim and Jeff wouldn't get around to finishing the paperwork.

_**stupidff.nwon'tletmelinebreakproperlystupidff.nwon'tletmelinebreakproperly**_

Everyone was keeping a nervous eye on Harry at dinner. After all, he had just seen into the Dark Lord's head again last night. Harry had been forced to explain that nobody had died, nobody had been tortured; all things considered, that was a _good_ dream for him. He'd been avoiding people most of the day, but at dinner the mood was finally beginning to lighten.

"Pass the rolls, Tonks?" Tonks picked up the basket and Harry stretched out his hand to get it, right across Moody's plate.

"Sorry for the reach, Mo-"

Moody's eyes widened and he grabbed Harry's wrist with one clawlike appendage, bringing the back of Harry's right hand close to his face. The rolls spilled all over the floor. Murmurs of confusion sprung up along the table. Tonks and Mrs. Weasley went to get a broom.

"Honestly, Mad-Eye, what d'you think you're doing?"

"-Is there something wrong with his hand?"

"What's the problem, Moody?" Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. Harry mentally cursed. He'd been trying to hide it all summer, and he'd thought in the dim evening light nobody would be able to see-he'd let his guard down, stupid, _stupid_…

"Potter," said Mad-Eye Moody calmly, "Why have you got the words 'I must not tell lies' etched on the back of your hand?"

Instantly, every chair in the room not belonging to a Hogwarts student (each of whom, of course, knew all about Harry's detentions with Umbridge) was thrown back as Professor McGonagall, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and Lupin stood up for a look at Harry's hand.

"What the-"

"Potter-"

"Did you do this to yourself?"

"That's the mark of a Scarlet Letter Quill if I've ever seen-"

"It says it! It says it!'_I must not tell_-"

"Potter! Explain!"

Harry looked up at everyone, his hand still in Moody's grip. It was beginning to throb-the old man had a surprisingly iron grasp for someone his age. "Er." This was going to be awkward. He was saved answering immediately by someone coming through the door. This in itself wasn't a major distraction, except that they had decided to forego the knob and crash directly through the wood.

"GRAB HER!" Kingsley came through the door, followed closely by a woman with slicked back hair and an eye patch whom Harry had never seen before, plus an equally unfamiliar young woman with luxurious bouncing ringlets. She was barefoot, and Harry could see a pair of gold high-heeled shoes glinting in the dark corridor behind her, as though their wearer had cast them off hurriedly in order to run better. Barefoot proceeded to pin the arms of the intruder, while Eyepatch raised her wand.

"_Locomotor Mortis"_ The intruder fell to the floor, and Barefoot let her go. Eyepatch undid the spell, and instead clapped her hands. Ropes sprang into being and tied up the intruder who turned out to be a girl, about Harry's age. Skinny and tall, with greasy black hair, narrowed black eyes, and torn and singed black robes, she glared at the two women who had disarmed her. Then she saw Harry, and shock was evident on her face. She composed it into an ugly sneer.

"Well, well well-so this is the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. How interesting. These must be the new members we've all been hearing so much about. And oh, look- you've got the Chosen One on your side. How wonderful. On the other hand, could be a bit dangerous." Harry continued to stare, unconsciously employing a technique he used to use with Dudley- stay blank and the bully will get confused. Or, alternatively, get even madder. The girl did both.

"Poor Harry Potter. Have you ever wondered why everyone close to you dies? There's a running bet in the Death Eaters how long your filthy little friends will last. My mother gives them a year. And she's usually pretty good at judging odds-"

"Not so good if I recall," said Lupin. He said it mildly, but with his fists clenched around his wand, which was pointing quite steadily at eye height for the girl. "She seemed to think that dealing with Harry and his friends here back in June would be a simple task."

There was a collective gasp as the girl was raised up into the air, then slammed against the dining room wall so hard several chunks of plaster came off and Mrs. Black woke up on the other side. The girl then started gasping and choking. Something had cut off her air supply from across the room.

That something turned out to be Harry. He was standing, fists clenched, wand lying on the table. He was not touching it. It had been a really long time since he had lost control like this, and at the moment it felt good. Felt good to unleash himself on something that looked so much like Bellatrix Lestrange. Felt good to revenge himself upon her kin.

But then…wasn't he being as bad as her, he asked himself?

Snape had been surprised at the outburst, but was even more surprised when a look of furious, unwilling decency unfolded itself across Harry's features and the girl fell, gasping, to the floor. He should have known Potter would be too weak to kill her.

_**thefollowingpartishappeningabitlaterthefollowingpartishappeningabitlaterthefollowingpartishappeningabitlater**_

"I've told you over and over," said the bruised girl, trying to keep her voice calm. "I'm nothing. A novice Eater. A nobody. You don't believe me?" She looked around at the stony faces of her worst nightmares. A few hours ago, she would have said that Dumbledore would have been worst or maybe Mad-eye Moody. That Potter kid was looking more and more dangerous every minute, though. The biggest shock had been Snape…she didn't allow herself to think of that. Snape had been her friend. He had taught her Potions, the only thing she was good at. He had never yelled at her. And now...

He was a double agent. A traitor to the Dark Lord and all who followed the Dark Lord's noble cause. A disgrace, a bit of filth, tearing down the work of all those who worked diligently to wipe the Mudblood and Muggle slime from the face of the planet. On the other hand, though, she preferred to think he was a double agent for Dumbledore as opposed to one who was really on Voldemort's side. Because if he wasn't…and was reporting back to the Dark Lord every word that they tortured out of her…well, then, she would be dead. Even if she hadn't actually been abra-cadavered yet, she was a walking dead witch.

That still didn't mean she was going to be telling them anything. Especially with Chosen Boy Potter around. Stupid control-losing half blood blood traitorous…you'd hardly believe he had Wizarding parents…

_**endofchapterendofchapterendofchapterendofchapterendofchapterendofchapter**_

Thanks for reviewing. If you didn't review, then may your floor be lava forevermore. FOREVERMORE! For a further understanding of the deep relationship between myself and the phrase 'the floor is lava', check out my Artemis Fowl fic The Luck of the Irish.

-Silverfingers


	5. Laundry Chute

Random Quote of the Day is from the excellent show _House, M.D._:

House is eating a sandwich and watching his soap in the room of a coma patient when Wilson walks in  
Wilson: The man's in a coma!  
House: He doesn't mind; I asked.  
Wilson: You're getting crumbs on him!

Disclaimer. I own neither Harry Potter nor the His Dark Matierials trilogy by Philip Pullman.

Plea For Mercy: Occaisionally the chapter-upload process glues a few words together here and there. Have mercy.

Snape uncorked the Veritaserum, staring the girl straight in the eye as he did so. Grumpy, aloof Bellatrix was nonetheless capable of the most reproachful look he'd ever encountered on a human being as she sat there, tied to a chair in the kitchen. He forced her mouth open, maintaining a determinedly non-apologetic look as he did so. Three drops. The first one fell towards her tongue…and turned into a frog. He picked it up and tossed it at Potter, who barely caught the slimy amphibian. Let him figure out what to do with it. Snape glared down at Bellatrix Junior.

"How did she do that?" asked Professor Dumbledore. Snape finally spoke. "She's marginally gifted at Transfiguration, and she's desperate. Do that again," he said coldly to the girl, "and I'll wash this down with an Acid Draught." She went slightly paler but continued to glower at him. At least until he forced the potion down, upon which Bellatrix went blank and vacant, like they all did.

"Harry, you should go," said Mrs. Weasley suddenly. Still holding the befuddled frog, Harry left the room. He seemed glad to get away from the girl, reduced to a harmless state though she was. The room listened to him walk up four flights of stairs, then slam a door, at which point they relaxed marginally and got down to the task at hand.

But Harry didn't go into the room he shared with Ron. He had only opened then slammed the door loudly to deposit the frog and, of course, detract suspicion. Instead, he walked into the room across the hall. It hadn't been cleaned yet; nobody slept there. It had a disused, rusting laundry chute that led down to the kitchen, which he now flung himself down next to. Coming up the cobwebby chute was every word of the interrogation taking place down in the kitchen.

**------------------------**

"What is your name?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange the Second."

"Are Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange your parents?"

"Yes."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"What is your level of involvement in the Dark Lord's organization?"

"I am low-level pond scum. My magical abilities stretch to potion-making. The only proficiency I possess in the wand arts is some skill in Transfiguration, as Professor Snape said. I am also told I possess the gift of prophecy. Other than that, my parents consider me practically a Squib most of the time."

"To what extent?"

"If I had ever subjected to a Ministry evaluation I believe I would be a qualified Seer, perhaps even as high as a Level 4 with training."

"Do you serve the Dark Lord Voldemort with your gift?"

"In the past I have made prophecies for him. I can also see things in a crystal ball sometimes. Tea leaves as welloccasionally, although I think it's stupid."

"And thus they tolerate you."

"Yes. My parents are only proud when I see the future for the Dark Lord. When they discovered my gift, they were pleased that I would now be helpful instead of totally useless."

"When did you discover this?"

"When I was ten."

"What have you seen for him before?"

"That the basilisk was dead. That Potter would enter the Department of Mysteries. That Sirius Black would die, although I did not know it would be at the hand of my mother. Other things, smaller. None that affected his plans much."

"Has he ever been displeased with you?"

"Yes. I saw that he would fail at the Ministry, but I saw it too late, after he had already left. He was angry, but more so at those Eaters who had gone. The only witnesses to the prophecy I made then were Nagini and Draco Malfoy. The Dark Lord heard about it upon his return. My mother was angry."

"Harry, mate, why're you lying on the-"

_Shut up!_ mouthed Harry furiously. Fortunately, the discussion over Bellatrix's responses was lively enough to cover Ron's remark coming down the chute.

**------------------------**

Hermione sat on Harry's cot.

"I think we should give her a chance, Ron-"

"Hah, you just showed up, you haven't been living with her for two weeks," said Ron. "Two weeks and she's driving us all mad."

"Bill doesn't like her much, either," said Ginny, stroking Crookshanks. "But he says she's been a real asset to the Order."

"Only when she can't avoid it. You wait until she goes into a trance and drops a pot on your head. I still swear she did it on purpose," said Ron, rubbing the bump on his head.

"Anyone who gets along that well with Mrs. Black is trouble," said Harry introspectively. Hermione gave him a sidelong glance. "You seem rather quiet, Harry. You're taking it really well. Last year you were so angry. And her mother did-um." Hermione stared at her lap.

"It was hard enough coming back here. It's hard enough seeing her face every day. Especially when she laughs-she looks just like her mum then. But her prophecies are helping the Order, and it's better if she's here than in Voldemort's hands. I just try to avoid her." He stared out the window at the sunset, missing Ron and Hermione's impressed looks at his level of maturity. "Thank God school starts soon."

Hermione looked around. "Where is she now?"

"Spends most of her time in the kitchen. She wandered around the house for two days until Mum put her to work, not that she was happy to do it. She's got quite a mouth on her. Probaby worse than Kreacher, but I don't think she's as rude out loud as she wants to be around the Order and Harry. Fred and George did have to sort her out after the first few 'mudbloods', mind. Now she's quiet, does as Mum tells her without lip." Hermione froze. Ron and Ginny turned.

Tall and pale, with dark hollows under her eyes, Bellatrix Lestrange the Second's scowl was offset by the pink apron she was wearing.

"What do you want?" said Ron aggressively. Harry had risen without noticing it.

"Dinner," she said from the doorway.

"Lovely," said Ron to the room in general, standing up and stretching. "Anyone know who's coming?"

"Aurors Shacklebolt and Moody, also Gaia and Morpessa," replied the girl as she turned to leave.

"I wasn't talking to you," said Ron. She sighed and turned back to face them again, the scowl replaced with a smirk.

"I was talking to you, Weasley. Your mother also said to tell you to be sure and wash up. I think she's fighting a losing battle, personally, but it is not my place to say." Ginny cleared her throat and flashed Hermione a look that said 'Isn't she obnoxious?' Hermione nodded, and shot one back that said, let's not make a scene. Both girls left to go wash up, slipping quietly past Bellatrix. Now only Ron was left, arguing with Bellatrix. Harry was also there, staring at her. From the side, she hardly looked like her mum, but when she sneered like that-

"What_ is_ your place, then-dropping pots on my head?"

"I was going into a trance, you pathetic twerp. At least when I am I can't hear your inane twittering."

Harry got the sense she was enjoying the banter. Siphoning her anger off into Ron, the way he did with Dudley sometimes. It had never occurred to him in those terms before, but she must be going absolutely mad in Grimmauld Place. He couldn't even begin to imagine being kidnapped and forced to live at Death Eater headquarters; but then again that was mostly because it was difficult to imagine being captured by Dark wizards and not immediately killed. One of the hazards-or was it a perk?- of being The Boy Who Lived.

Ron had stalked out of the room with the conclusion of their argument; now he was the only one left. Bellatrix was looking at him in a strange way, one eyebrow raised. He realized he had been standing there, lost in thought, for thirty seconds after Ron had left. She must have been wondering what he was doing. Suddenly her eyes lost focus…

…Bellatrix felt it again. It was like a yawning chasm had suddenly opened up beneath her. Not here. Not with _him_ in the room. She felt light-headed; the room spun….

Harry started as Bellatrix opened her mouth. Her voice was harsh, yet echoey. His heart thumped. He'd heard that voice before, from the mouth of Professor Trelawney. She was making a prophecy.

…_When the knife is reforged_

_And cuts to the abyss again_

_The victor of the war shall hinge _

_On the bearer's name_

_Between worlds and through battles_

_The struggle for the subtle one shall cross_

_But the true fate of our world shall be decided_

_When at last it returns to us _

_Lion shall roar at serpent_

_Locked in their endless dance_

_When the knife is reforged_

_We may lose our only chance…_

She stumbled and fell. Harry grabbed her arm instinctively and narrowly stopped Bellatrix from crashing to the ground. She was heavier than she looked.

"What did that mean?" he asked. She stared up at him, black eyes confused.

"I don't know…what did I say?"

"Something about a knife. And a war." His arms were beginning to ache from holding her up off the ground. Their faces were so close he actually saw her pupils shrink minutely when her eyes widened at this. His back hurt. She grabbed his shirt front.

"Potter, I need you to think. Try and remember clearly. This is important, for both you and your precious Order. **What did I say about the knife?**"

**------------------------**

"You're sure?" Harry's eyes were glassy, and he was completely drained from hours of cross-examination.

"I swear, that's all I can remember. The knife will be reforged, and cut to the abyss once more, and on the bearer's name will hinge the victor. The struggle for the subtle one will roam cross worlds and through battles but the fate of our world will be decided when at last it returns home. The lion and the serpent will fight and roar and we might all lose our only chance. Then she woke up. That was it. Will somebody _please_ tell me why this is important?"

"You're sure?" said Lupin urgently, ignoring Harry's last request. "You're sure it said the subtle one?"

"You're positive it said it would cut to the abyss _again?_" growled Moody.

"Yes," said Harry exhaustedly. "Those are about the only things I'm sure of." He glared at Bellatrix, who was sipping a cup of coffee next to him and seemed obnoxiously alert and awake. "It would help if _you _could help remember this."

"Tough, Potter," she said indifferently. "Seers can't remember their prophecies."

"Albus, he's tired," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm sure they both are."

"You are right, Arthur," said Dumbledore gravely. "Harry, you may go up to bed."

"What about me?"

"I need a word with you, Bellatrix."

**------------------------**

Bellatrix's face was unreadable as she looked at Albus Dumbledore, but then she turned away from him and Harry, looking down the laundry chute, could see what Dumbledore couldn't. Her mouth was opened slightly in surprise, and her eyes were looking back and forth as though for an escape route. She was utterly and completely shocked. Perhaps for the first time in her life, the junior Death Eater had no idea how to respond to something. "Hogwarts?" she said. "_Me_?"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Sooo…review, and let me know if Bella Jr. is becoming a Mary-Sue, because that's my second biggest fear right now, right up there with My Fic Becoming Crappy And Me Not Knowing It. Put my mind at ease. REVIEW!

The floor is lava,

Silverfingers


	6. Recpatures and Reflections

Okey dokey, everybody. Today the crossover part of Grow2B truly begins. Since I intend to make this a multi-faceted crossover, my disclaimer should also be interpreted as a suggested-reading section. However, if you haven't read His Dark Materials, fret not; all will be explained in the chapter after this one.

Random Quote of the Day:

**Dr. Cameron**: That's not necessarily bad news.  
**Dr. Eric Foreman**: Do you ever watch "Gilligan's Island" reruns and really, really think they're going to get off the island this time?  
–_House, M.D._

Disclaimer/Suggested Reading for this chapter: the Harry Potters from our beloved JKR, and the His Dark Materials series from Philip Pullman.

>>

"She's gone!"

Mrs. Weasley dropped the pot she had been holding as her children came piling through the door, white-faced. Hermione looked close to tears, Ron very shell-shocked. Fred and George were casting worried looks at Ginny. They were followed by Lupin, Kingsley and Gaia, with Morpessa fluttering around her sister like a worried mother hen. Mad-Eye came last, supporting Harry. At this point Molly actually let out a small scream. Harry had a long, shallow cut along the side of his face. His robes were badly scorched. His wand remained firmly gripped in his right hand, while his left was clutching a piece of black fabric. "Oh Harry-Harry dear, are you all right?"

"We got attacked," said Mad-Eye, confirming Molly and Arthur's worst fears. Mr. Weasley looked over from where he was hugging Ginny. "Harry?" Harry took a deep breath. "We were coming out of Flourish and Blott's and all of the sudden there were Death Eaters everywhere. Mad-Eye and Gaia and Kinsley started attacking them at once, and I tried to help, but it's OK, Mrs. Weasley," he said as she started to sob, "They weren't there for me, they weren't there for any of us, they were just there for _her."_ Something seemed to harden about Harry's eyes at that last word. He walked out of the room. Mad-Eye stared after him for a moment. He considered going after Harry, maybe giving him a pep talk.

What do you say? What could possibly change any of the things the boy must be thinking?  
Well, maybe…

"That kid would have made his old man proud today, that's all I know," he said to the room at large, a little more loudly than necessary. Moody didn't miss details like laundry chutes. "Fought like five Aurors. Even tried to stop them from taking the Lestrange girl, when it's obvious he never liked her much."

"He hated her," Hermione spoke up suddenly, eyes bright with tears. "He _hated_ her and he tried not to because he said it made him like Malfoy-hating someone for who their parents were. But he hated her anyways and he tried to save her. She probably helped them take her somehow, I bet she did."

"She can rot for all I care," said Ron, his face oddly taut. There was a silence broken only by Mrs. Weasley's sobs and the muffled sounds of Fred and George as she crushed the air from their lungs.

>>

Harry stared out his window. Somewhere out there, Bellatrix Lestrange II was back in the custody of her loving parents. Did she try to help them? Out of fear, or genuine willingness to rejoin the Dark Side? He couldn't forget the look on her face when Dumbledore told her she would be going to Hogwarts. But her sneering words the first time he met her, were difficult to forget as well.

There was a knock at the door. He sighed.

"Come in."

Albus Dumbledore walked into the room, bending his head so the ceiling wouldn't knock his hat off.

"You did a brave thing today, Harry."

Harry didn't answer.

"I can only regret that I was not there to prevent Miss Lestrange from being taken by the Death Eaters." Harry said nothing.

"Harry, I can tell you are angry. Why do you think this is?"

"We-you-the Order saved her!" Harry stammered, livid. "They pulled her away from Voldemort and tried to keep her safe here, but all she cared about was trying to get back to her scummy parents and help Voldemort again! You believe in second chances, Professor, but **some people don't change**!" As he said it, Harry was thinking not only of the Lestrange girl but Snape as well.

He realized a silence had fallen.

"Harry, Harry," said Dumbledore gently. "You, like Snape," Harry blinked, "place too much importance on the sins of the parents. It is my belief that Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter did not enjoy her Death Eater lifestyle very much. Yes, yes," he said as Harry opened his mouth furiously, "she did believe passionately in Voldemort's teachings and the fantasy of pureblood sovereignty. But you too know the disquiet that years of being raised with someone who hates you can bring, Harry. I do not think Bellatrix, in her heart of hearts, was sorry to have been taken by the Order. It may be that she is suffering back with the Eaters." Harry looked at him, trying his hardest to fight back his anger and act as though he was in agreement with Dumbledore. He thought he had fooled the headmaster when Dumbledore got up to leave Harry's room, but then Dumbledore shook his head ruefully. "Harry, if you cannot feel pity for Bellatrix's sham of a life, then at least look at it this way: as long as she is with Voldemort, he has a powerful weapon. I know enough about Seeing to know Miss Lestrange was something rare. That alone should be enough for you to wish her back with us." With that, he left.

Harry lay back on his bed, remembering something Sirius had once told him: _the world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters._ Bellatrix _was_ a Death Eater, but Harry thought he knew what Sirius had been trying to say: people are much more complicated than we would like them to be. Good people do bad things. Bad people look like good people. Sometimes good and bad themselves are so gray you can't be sure.

Speaking of Sirius…that girl was spawned from the same murderess who killed him. A knot tightened in Harry stomach. Whatever Sirius had meant, it didn't apply to her.

>>

"So, little Bella." Bellatrix inwardly shuddered. The Dark Lord scared her. Harry Potter. She'd _met_ Harry Potter. Harry was skinny, wore glasses, was bad at Potions, and liked treacle tart.

He had faced the man in front of her four times, and lived.

Well. She'd faced him more than four times, and lived.

_Yes,_ said the little nagging voice inside her, _but how many of those times was he actively trying to do you in?_

Um. None?

The Dark Lord's eyes flickered.

"You are thinking about Harry Potter." All introspective thoughts were swamped out by sheer blind mad terror. Inhuman terror. The fear of a mouse upon seeing the swooping death that is the hawk.

"Yes, my lord."

"You are wondering how someone so normal could have fought me so many times."

"Yes, my lord." _He knows this. He's just trying to scare me more._ That little nagging voice had grown during her stay with the Order. A thousand fears swamped and silenced it instantly as Voldemort continued.

"You think that I must not be as powerful as all that."

"No, lord." He blinked. "You are far more powerful than he is, lord."

"How can you still think this, knowing I have been defeated by a mere boy?"_ He's bloody curious-_went the little voice. Shut up, SHUT UP! screamed the rest of her.

"I do not know, lord. But it is not that he is more powerful than you." Lord Voldemort raised an eyebrow. She wasn't lying-he could see it in her mind plain as day. Well, it seemed the Order had not planted any thoughts in the girl's head that could lead to a betrayal of the Eaters. He indicated for her to go.

Voldemort was wrong. Well, almost. The Order hadn't planted the nagging voice. It had occasionally popped up before, but only when she was dealing with her parents. Never with the Dark Lord himself. No, time away from the Eaters had not been the source of the voice, but it had certainly strengthened it.

Outside in the hall, she stared at the dull, lead-gray rain pummeling the windows. _Hogwarts…_each one seemed to whisper. _You almost went to Hogwarts._

_>>_

Will Parry stood outside the wreckage of his house, squinting at the green skull that hung in the sky like a ghastly new constellation. _I wonder what they were after_. The man called Snape laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Your mother will be fine."

Will shrugged the hand off and continued to gaze at the sky, blinking into the garish green glow until his tears retreated without falling. "What about Mary?" He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the Dark Mark's light as he surveyed what had until tonight been his home. Two of the fingers on that hand were missing. Snape stared, distracted.

"Mary….will have a harder time of things. But we should be able to return her almost to normal. A stay in St. Mungo's-"

"No."

"St. Mungo's is the only hospital that can treat her." Snape's voice was impatient. Whoever had taught him how to fake sympathy, thought Will wryly, hadn't done a very good job.

"We can take you all in, for a time, until the Dark Lord is no longer searching for you." Snape hesitated, as though afraid what he was going to say next might cause him to show genuine emotion.

"Your fa-"he began

"My father is dead."

"Who killed him?"

"A witch." Eyes that were far too old to belong to the boy Snape was speaking to stared straight ahead. Then Will sighed.

"You're not going to believe a word I say but if it'll help you know what this-what this Dark Lord is trying to do to my family, I guess I'd better tell you my story."

"Story?" Snape held his breath.

"About the subtle knife."

A long, slow exhale. "Mr. Parry, I doubt very much that I will disbelieve you. My Order has been searching for you for a very long time. I can only apologize," he said softly, looking at what had once been Will's home, "that we did not find you before he did."

>>

A thousand apologies for the hideously short chappie. Please, guys, usually I get 4 or 5 reviews per chapter for this story, but for chapter 4 I only got _one_. That is seriously discouraging…is this fic that bad/unremarkable? Don't care, just REVIEW:-)  
The floor is lava,  
Silverfingers


	7. Poised on the Edge

Hello, everybody! New chappie! You have NO IDEA how much it makes my day when you review. I go crazy. So go ahead and review, pleeeeease.

Random Quote of the Day:

**Cuddy**: You're half an hour late.  
**House**: Busy case load.  
**Cuddy**: One case is not a "load".

Disclaimer/Suggested Reading for this chapter: the Harry Potters from our beloved JKR, and the His Dark Materials series from Philip Pullman.

-------

"**_They got the pieces?"_** Moody slammed his fist on the table, Gaia buried her head in her hands, and everyone else sort of sagged. Mary Malone sipped her tea, giving each of the Order members in turn an odd stare. Will was frustrated.

"Yes, they're not where I left them, but you're not _listening_ to me, there is nobody in this world who can re-forge that knife."

"Believe me, boy, that knife is in one of the where it is most likely to be re-forged." Moody stared expressionlessly at the wood grain of the table. The other members of the Order were in varying stages of hopelessness and grim determination. Will drummed the three remaining fingers of his one hand on the table.

"I don't know why you're so upset about this. It's not like your You-Know-Who can even use it."

There was silence. Moody looked up.

"What? Why wouldn't he be able to?"

"You see this?" said Will, holding up his hand with a hard, pained expression, so they could all see the stumps of his fourth and fifth fingers. "It's called the badge of the bearer. The knife sort of picks who it wants to be the next bearer and that person is going to get two of their fingers cut off, by the knife, in a fight."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. When I got the knife, I took it from someone-a madman- who had stolen it and was trying to use it. He couldn't. After I- killed him and got the knife back, the old bearer saw my fingers, but it was more than that. He said he could tell the knife wanted to move on. So he showed me how to use it." Mary Malone, sitting silently with her mug, gripped his shoulder with an understanding look.

"So this knife doesn't cut for anyone but the bearer," said Emmeline Vance.

"Oh, it'll cut. It cuts through stone or iron like butter, but it won't cut _through_ unless you're the bearer."

"That's when-that's when you use it to travel between the worlds?" Will nodded. "How does that work?"

"Well, the air is full of little snags. You catch the tip of the knife in one of these and pull it open. That's how sharp it. It cuts reality. But you don't need the knife to close windows. You use your fingers."

Snape spoke. "How did it break, then?" Will swallowed. "I actually broke it twice. The first time I had it reforged by a master smith from another world. The second time it was deliberate. It couldn't be reforged it, and I knew it."

"But how?" pressed Moody. "How did you break it?" Will looked up, and now there was something haunting in his eyes. "There are some things even the knife cannot cut. Both times it was pushed against that thing until it broke."

"What can't it cut? It cuts _dimensions_-what is invulnerable to the knife?"

"Love. Love makes the knife shatter like glass."

"Not much chance the Dark Lord'll break it by accident then," said Moody in the silence that followed, and swigged from his hip flask.

"Why did you have to break it?" Will paused a moment before going on.

"Every time you cut through to another world, a piece of –of emptiness, of nothing, of the abyss- breaks off and enters one of the worlds you have joined. It is called a Specter. They attack adults and children past puberty. They drain them of their will to live, of everything they care about. A man who's been the prey of a Specter will just-just _watch_ as his own son drowns. When I found this out, I knew I couldn't do it anymore. Cut through, I mean." The look on Will's face was one of anguish for a moment, as though recalling the most painful moment of his life. The expression was gone in a candle flicker as Will fought to get himself under control. "And the edges of the windows between worlds have the abyss in them too. So while the windows are open, they drain Dust from the universe."

"Dust?" For the first time, Will turned to Mary Malone.

"Mary, this is really more your specialty." "Of course." She set down her coffee mug and cleared her throat. "I devoted half my life to the study of Dust. Basically, it's consciousness. They're these particles that stream through every universe, and they are the cause of conscious life in each one. Without it, life descends into darkness. There's ways to focus and control it. A few years ago we were in serious trouble, but Will here helped to reverse the flow of Dust from where it was heading and direct it back to flowing where it should be. He saved untold numbers of beings."

"I wasn't alone."

"Who was with you?" Snape asked. Will was silent. Mary glared at Snape. "Me," she said after a pause. She made the mistake of looking Snape in the eyes as she said it.

"But it wasn't _just_ you, was it, Ms.-"He started to say.

"So conscious life exists in other worlds besides out own," Gaia cut him off. Mary laughed.

"Of course it does. In every world we've been to." She saw Gaia's expression. "Sorry. I guess there's no 'of course' about anything you're hearing today. At any rate, the knife is a powerful and important weapon. It cannot fall into the wrong hands." There was a silence, then Mary forced a smile. "That didn't sound too gloomy. Any more chance of this tea? It's really great, Molly." As she trailed the red-haired woman to the stove, Gaia asked "What sorts of things could happen if the knife falls in the wrong hands?"

"Well, if the person were suitably powerful in other ways and could work the knife, almost limitless."

"Distances between the worlds correspond, so they could break into places by going into one world and traveling, then cutting back through inside a house," said Will, thinking of himself.

"They could harm or take advantage of citizens of other worlds," said Mary, thinking of the man with the gun among the _mulefa's_ enemies. "They could get their hands on technologies you don't know about and therefore can't counter. Like an aleithiometer."

"What does and altheo-alythi-whatsit do?"

"Tells you the truth." The Order stared. "The truth? About what?"

"About anything."

"Could it tell you where this house was?"

"Yes. I'm not to sure how specific it cn get, but it could definitely lead someone here. Of course, you'd have to be an expert on how to use it, which is near impossible."

"Or," said Will, "You'd just kidnap someone who could." Mary stared at him. "Goodness, I never…I never thought of that. Yes, of course, if you didn't care, you'd just bring someone who could read it. How ruthless of a man are we dealing with here?" Snape contemplated the wood grain of the table. Bill smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Ms. Malone, you saw what he did to your house. Believe me, if you had been inside it, nothing would have been different. This man doesn't care how many he kills."

Will and Mary looked at each other, wordlessly communicating.

"But…but she lost it," said Mary, keeping her eyes on Will's. Both of them seemed to be oblivious of the rest of the room suddenly. "She lost it, remember? She couldn't do it anymore."

"She'll have relearned it."

"There's always hope." Will shook his head at this.

"She'll have relearned it. But maybe she hasn't gotten too far, maybe she won't be of any use."

Mary ran her fingers through her hair again and again.

"I'm sorry, Mary," said Will.

"There's no way you could have known this would happen, Will. I just wish-I wish that thing had never been forged."

"Do you really?" said Will quietly. Mary realized he'd have never met Lyra or his father, and never saved the _mulefa. _She'd have never met the _mulefa_ or been able to help them.

"No. Not really." Snape noticed the way they talked to each other-as equals. Gaia spoke up.

"Assuming that he can reforge the knife, and work the alething, how much more powerful would he become?" Snape looked at her in disgust.

"He can know anything and go anywhere, Gaia. That's what they've just told us. How much more powerful do you _think_ he'll get?"

--------------------

Will glanced up at the boy who had just walked into the kitchen where he had been sitting alone, thinking about Lyra and letting his coffee go cold. "Have they told you what's going on?" The other boy shook his head. The movement of his hair let Will get a glimpse of a thin scar on his forehead. "They said I should tell you. This person called the Dark Lord or something equally stupid has gotten his hands on this weapon. It's a knife, a knife that can cut between dimensions. You see," he said, sighing, "there are loads of other worlds besides this one, and that knife actually was invented in one of them. It cuts between them, so you can travel into other worlds. This Dark Lord has it now." Will looked up. The boy had gone pale. Will felt a sudden surge of anger. "Why are you all so frightened of him? Nobody's even said his real name yet! It's ridiculous." The dark-haired boy gave him an even look.

"His name is Lord Voldemort. Mostly his followers call him the Dark Lord. Other people just call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You must have been talking to Snape. And we're scared because he doesn't need to get any more powerful."

"The knife is broken! The only person I've ever met who could reforge it is a giant bear from another universe. And anyways," Will said suddenly, for he had just remembered, "he can't do it without me." Harry stood up.

"He can't do it without you?" Harry noticed Will look at his mutilated hand

"No. I'm sort of bonded with the knife."

"Then you're in as much trouble as I am." Harry got up and headed towards the door.

"Why are you in trouble?"

"Because," said Harry, turning back around, "Voldemort killed my family when I was one. And he's been coming after me ever since. That is why it's important he doesn't get this thing reforged. Did you tell Moody or anyone else he'd need you to reforge it?" Will shook his head. "Then I'd do that. Right now."

Review, review, review, review. Review, review, review!

The floor is lava.  
Silverfingers


	8. Bruises

Hello, everybody! New chappie! You have NO IDEA how much it makes my day when you review. I go crazy. So go ahead and review, pleeeeease.

Random Quote of the Day:

Wilson – "Did you know your phone is dead? Do you ever recharge the batteries?"  
House – "They recharge? I just keep buying new phones."  
- _House, M.D._

Disclaimer/Suggested Reading for this chapter: the Harry Potters from our beloved JKR, and the His Dark Materials series from Philip Pullman.

---------

"Where will the chance be?"

Bel gulped. There was absolutely no thought of lying.

"I…I don't know."

The Dark Lord drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "And how does that help me?"

Bel shrugged, a habit she had learned from Ginny Weasley. In return she felt a sharp jab in the ribs from her mother, who was standing behind her. Bellatrix Lestrange Senior's face seemed as lazily unconcerned as usual, but in reality she was vibrating like a plucked wire, elated just to be in the same room as her master. To have made a contribution to the Cause through her daughter.

Bel scooted her chair closer to the crystal ball and tried to forget the merciless red eyes boring into the top of her skull. _This is right. This is where you belong_. The thought calmed her down some and allowed her to see the images in the crystal, putting out of her mind the terrifying man seated directly across from her and trying to See some more in the ball.

It wasn't like it was hard, exactly. You just had to look. Voldemort had even drawn the musty curtains because he knew she couldn't read with the sun glancing off the ball. Considerate. Bel focused. Yes, there it was again:

"It's a boy. Mid-teens."

"Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"It's hard to explain, Master. I just do. He's standing next to a rectangle…a box thing…kind of a box thing…and there's a train. He's going to be taking a train journey," she announced finally with some relief, expecting satisfaction at this piece of news. Instead, her remark hung in the air, her mother radiated disapproval and she thought she heard Draco Malfoy snicker.

"Term starts soon. Of course he will be taking a train journey," said the Dark Lord. It was impossible to tell whether he was angry or amused with her stupidity.

Bel felt scarlet flame up her cheeks. Why was she such an idiot? "Ah. Okay." This time she stared into the ball for longer, and a couple of the other Eaters started to fidget. The Dark Lord remained as impassive as ever.

"And…he's dropping something. Oh, it's Hedwig, look, she's flying away..."

_Now _coldness radiated from Lord Voldemort. "…Hedwig?"

"Um. It's his owl. He has an owl. That's her name. Um. Anyways, he just dropped her cage and she's flying away. Now he's chasing her…" Bel's voice trailed off and a strand of hair fell across her face as she chewed her lip, trying to see the pictures in the fog again. She shook her head.

"No, that's it."

"You lost them?"

"They lost me. See, sometimes that happens. When I Saw him in the Department of Mysteries last year, I couldn't see a thing beyond when he took that prophecy off the shelf. Everything kind of dissolved. Tea leaves sat in a lump, the pictures in the ball morphed, everything. There are shapes there, I'm sure, it's just that I'm just-" she frowned. "I'm not good enough to See them." Bellatrix winced, but was too transfixed by what the Dark Lord would do next to prod her daughter. Voldemort didn't get mad. He didn't say anything. He just stared, the infinite, intelligent emptiness of his stare filling the room. Sure enough, Bel started to fill in the silence with babble. "See, I think it's a turning point. After Potter got the prophecy down, it could have gone either way, couldn't it? Either he got it, we took it and he died, or he got it and he kept it and heard it, or he died, or Dumbledore died, or one of us died-whatever happened would have been huge. It was a given that he would go, but it was too iffy for me to be able to See it with any kind of accuracy. " She glanced back down and pointed. "See, right there. He's arguing with someone very short now." Voldemort glanced at the ball. It was a swirling mass of smoke. The spot the girl as pointing to was no different than any other patch. "And now it's gone, and you see _there-_"her finger jumped a few inches over, to an identical patch of smoke- "that's…that's, uh, definitely his body. He's dead, and someone's crying over him…And that over there's me…but over _here_ I'm doing something different. And now it's not even me anymore, it's you, and you're arguing with someone who's…yes, definitely chained to a wall. And there's Harry again only now he's a spider. It's showing me a billion possible futures, and they all hinge on what happens after his owl escapes. So I don't know what'll happen, exactly, but it looks like that moment in time is important. And why would it possibly be important? He can get Hedwig back in her cage in a minute. It's because-" she tapped the glass with a self-satisfied fingernail-"whatever happens in that minute when he's distracted and out of sight of his battalion of Aurors is vital. It's your chance."

Voldemort smiled. Bellatrix Lestrange Senior patted her daughter's shoulder, and to her surprise, this sent chills down Bel's spine.

---------------------

Harry smiled up at the scarlet steam engine. Finally, he was going _home_. To Hogwarts, where he could play Quidditch and not be followed everywhere by a half-dozen stone-faced Aurors. One of the Aurors, a man named Marcus, helped him heft his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express.

"I can do it _myse-_" he started to say in annoyance. Marcus was probably a very nice person and maybe someday some nice woman would bother to look past the fact that he had no concept of personal space and never talked. A passerby bumped Harry's trolley and Hedwig's cage fell off. She squawked angrily as he cage rolled. Harry started to chase it when the rolling birdcage was stopped by a foot. He looked up and started to say "Thanks," but stopped abruptly when he saw the owner of the foot was Draco Malfoy.

Harry felt his blood pressure surge. Whatever was making Malfoy sneer like that could not bode well for Hedwig. Sure enough, just as Harry reached instinctively for his wand, Malfoy gave the cage a brutal kick and the door burst open. Hedwig flew away, screeching. With one glare at the laughing Slytherin, Harry chased after his owl, running along the platform, hearing the startled shouts of his honor guard receding into the distance.

Looking up to make sure he didn't lose sight of the snowy bird, Harry didn't even see Antonin Dolohov prior to running into him.

--------------

"Hello, Gaia," said Mad-Eye as the woman stumbled in. "Boy off safely?"

She didn't answer. Gradually, every head in the room turned to look at her. Gaia was abnormally pale.

"Gaia? What happened?"

"I killed Harry Potter," Gaia said, then pressed a hand to her mouth.

"What?" Everyone in the room was quite sure they had misheard, except for Mrs. Weasley, whose worst nightmares had all come true at once. She went deathly pale and started twisting the dishrag in her hand. Nobody was looking at her, however.

"He was about to get on the train, and _my Aurors_ let him slip away to chase his bird, and then he was just-gone." Gaia continued.

"Gone?" Kingsley had risen without knowing it.

"_Harry?_" Mrs. Weasley got out before she started to sob.

"Well, he gave them what-for, but there were just too many by the time Marcus, Dawlish and Barroughs got there."

"Who got him? Who's they?"

Morpessa entered the room. "Dolohov, Malfoy, Lestrange and possibly even the Big Man himself, as far as we know. You should get down there," she said to both of them. Kingsley turned on his heel and was in the dark alleyway next to King's Cross. He ran into the station, where a man was leaning against the barrier. Kingsley walked up to him purposefully and recognized him as Stevens, from the Auror Office.

"Ah. Chief." Kingsley gave him a nod and made as if to go through, but the man blocked his path. "Security, Chief. I need the password."

"Boysenberry," said a voice behind him. Kingsley turned around. Gaia had followed him and was swaying on her feet, but was able to walk through the barrier ahead of him with a queasy sort of determination. Gaia looked insane, he thought. She _looked_ like….no, it couldn't be. He shook his head and went through. The area where Potter had been abducted was covered with stains and scorch marks. Blood stains.

"It's not all his," said a more junior Auror, corking an Identity Potion he had carefully dribbled on some of the stains. Kingsley was looking at Gaia. She had met Harry a couple times. When she had, she maintained her usual laid-back demeanor, but Kingsley had been astonished and then amused to sense the little bit of excitement she allowed to escape. He himself had known the boy a little better, but Harry had still been something a little special to both of them. Kingsley shook his head,. disgusted with himself.You watch the boy argue with Ron Weasley for a solid hour on the best kind of broom polish, you beat him in chess four times, and you thought you had him down as a normal boy. Kingsley had known that Harry just wanted to be treated like everybody else; he knew his miraculous escape at age one had been a fluke; and he had resolved not to elevate the boy. He had hoped he thought about Harry in a more rational way than the masses who revered him. But it turned out Kingsley had been as foolish at heart as everyone else: he was crushed far more than he would have been if another child had been kidnapped. Harry had been a hero to Kingsley after all, just like he had been one to Gaia.

"He's long gone," he said, and it was all he could do to stop his voice from cracking. "I want everyone back to Headquarters now. Drop everything else." Gaia's eyes were glittering with diamond tears.

-----------

A blur entered the grimy stone cell. Without his glasses, Harry couldn't see who it was. One of his eyes was swollen shut in any case. The figure got closer and dropped something on this lap. His glasses, repaired. Harry put them on and was able to see that it was Bellatrix Lestrange Junior looking down at him impassively.

"He wants me to be able to see him clearly when I kill him?" Harry asked.

Bel blinked. "Yes, actually. That's exactly what he said."

She seemed to find the whole thing hideously awkward. Harry felt no such discomfiture, as he had always assumed her to be dyed-in-the-wool evil, Bellatrix-Lestrange in miniature, and that was exactly what she had turned out to be. At any rate, there was no real social etiquette that dictated decorum between henchgirl and boy-chained-to-wall. She offered him a pot of bruise paste.

"What's this for?"

Bel shrugged. "Dolohov wasn't supposed to beat you like that. You made him awfully mad at the Ministry. Those screams you heard earlier were his. The Dark Lord has made it clear that nobody lays a finger on you without his say-so." Harry snorted, pretending that he hadn't heard the screams. In reality it would have been impossible not to hear Dolohov's agony.

"Patching me up before he kills me?" Harry faked nonchalance extremely well after years lying to Snape. He shifted and did not take the pot.

Bel stared at him. "Yes, actually. That's exactly what he said." She held the medicine under his nose. "If you don't want it I'm to apply it by force. I'm bad at Stunning so I'll probably have to get one of the others in here to help me. Your choice," she said in a monotone.

Harry stared at her. Slowly, he took the medicine and smeared it on his eye. Almost immediately he felt the swelling and bruising recede, and was able to look at Bel more clearly. When not a prisoner of the Order, Bellatrix seemed…less angry, no surprise. And that was all. A touch more jumpy, perhaps.

She watched him a little longer as he rubbed his eye.

"I made that. How do you know it isn't poisoned or worse?"

Harry let out a hoarse laugh. "I'm dead anyways, aren't I? Besides, Voldemort isn't going to kill me like that. He wants to do it in person, so everybody will know the last four times were just flukes."

"Five," said Bel at once. She looked surprised at herself, but forged on out of curiosity. "It was five. How could you forget?" Harry blinked. Was she right? There was the first time, obviously….Philosopher's Stone, Tom Riddle, the graveyard, and the Ministry. Five. Huh.

"I don't see that it matters that much."

She stared at him some more. It was getting annoying. "You done with the bruise balm?"

Harry nodded. As she turned to leave, he asked her the same question he asked her every time.

"How do you live with yourself?"

As usual, she ignored him and let the heavy wooden door slam behind her.But this time, Harry was surprised to hear a dull thud, as though the person who had just shut it had fallen back to lean against it, eyes wide, breathing hard. He shook his head, leaned back against the cold stone wall, and tried to control the fear that had been raging inside him for three days.

_I have faced the Dark Lord twenty-seven times, and not one time was he actually angry. I keep track because every time I meet his eyes they burn into me like fire and I have nightmares afterwards. It's not like he's ever violent, but my heart beats like a rabbit's the whole time and what I do or if I stumble determines how well everybody else treats me for weeks. I congratulate myself every time on not freezing up like an idiot. And he can actually lose count._

"What are you doing?" Draco Malfoy asked her curiously. Bellatrix was standing, quite still, flat against the door, lost in thought. She shook her head and flashed a smile at the blond boy.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

----------

REV. YOO.

The floor is lava,

Silverfingers.


End file.
